


Before The Beginning

by Aviss



Category: Good Omens - Gaiman & Pratchett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:48:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guarding the gates to the Garden can be the most boring job in all creation. The right company can help make it better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before The Beginning

**Before The Beginning**

  
"You're doing it again, Aziraphale." Aziraphale startled at the voice, his eyes following the progress of a group of angels down into the Garden before he looked up at the unsmiling face of his direct superior. He smiled sheepishly, knowing he'd been caught. "You're supposed to be watching the gate, not your brothers."

"Sorry Raphael, I got distracted," he said, hurrying to pick up his flaming sword, which had been resting against the wall next to the gate, and trying to look sharp and alert. He didn't think he was succeeding from the way Raphael frowned.

He was grateful the flames only burn the infidels, not that there were many--or any--of those around or there would be nothing of the Garden left.

Raphael stared at him with a stern expression for a few seconds, while Aziraphale did his best not to squirm under that intense, disapproving gaze. He finally sighed and left, continuing his rounds to the other gates of the Garden. Aziraphale sagged and looked back inside, hoping to catch a last look of the angels.

He knew he was supposed to just guard the gate, and ,in fact, he was doing that. It was just--it was all so boring. Nothing ever happened there, the humans were happy and very well behaved, and nobody ever tried to get in or go out. The only one who ever visited was Raphael, and that was just to make sure Aziraphale was still doing his job.

If his attention wandered from time to time, there was nothing he could do about it.

He made sure Raphael was at a decent distance before he propped the sword against the wall again, turning to face the gate and the Garden.

...

Aziraphale loved to observe life in the Garden; the best thing about his position guarding the gate, boring as it usually was, was the chance to indulge in this pastime.

He loved all of his Father's creations, and the humans were an especially fascinating bunch. There was, however, a group of angels he especially liked to watch.

He wasn't alone in his favouritism for this particular crowd; at its centre stood Lucifer, their Father's favourite and the most beautiful Angel in the entire Host. Not to say the rest of them were not beautiful, there was Samael with his soft and lovely voice and Azazel with his deep eyes and profound answers.

Most of the angels would turn to look at them when they passed by, immersed in their deeps reflections of their Father's work.

But the one Aziraphale liked to watch the most was one whose name he didn't even know. He was a fairly recent addition to the crowd, following them around and occasionally participating in the conversations. He was young, at least by their standards, and his eyes would follow Lucifer and the others with the same admiration Aziraphale saw in those watching from afar.

But he was part of them, though most of his brothers didn't seem to notice him.

Aziraphale had been noticing this young angel more and more as of late.

At first he thought he looked out of place with that resplendent crowd, his rank and appearance not as distinguished as his companions. But lately--lately Aziraphale felt drawn more and more to this young one, his eyes following his progress down the Garden every time they appeared.

He wondered why, out of the most impressive group of angels, he was interested in the one who looked like he didn’t belong there.

…

"Don't you get bored here?" An unexpected voice said close to Aziraphale. He startled and turned around. He would have dropped his sword, again, had he been holding it. As it was, Aziraphale managed to knock it down from its resting place against the wall. He sighed, relieved that it wasn't Raphael. He'd been scolded three times in as many days, and Raphael's patience might not be infinite. "You're always here, looking at us."

It was surprising, to say the very least, to find the one he'd been thinking about standing next to him. He was looking at Aziraphale in a friendly manner, an amused smile on his lips. Up close, Aziraphale could see his beauty was not as different as his usual companions', maybe a bit muted but definitely there.

"Oh, you startled me," Aziraphale said lamely, not knowing what else to say. "I thought you were--"

"Raphael?" he said, his lips quirking up a bit more, his smile turning slightly mischievous. It was such a rare expression for an angel that Aziraphale found himself gaping at him, completely ignoring the question.

There was only silence for a minute, both of them staring at each other until Aziraphale realized he was waiting for some kind of answer. He flushed, a bit embarrassed, and looked down at his hand.

"Yes, he usually does his rounds at this time," he finally sad, his eyes moving back up to stare at the other.

"I saw him at the Southern Gate a while ago; I thought he had already passed through here."

Aziraphale shrugged. "No he's actually--"

"Coming right now!" In an instant the sword was shoved into his hands and the other angel was leaving through the door, looking back at Aziraphale with a friendly wave. "See you! Look alert!" And with that, he was gone.

Aziraphale blinked, not completely sure of what had happened, and then he squared his shoulders and assumed a regal position while Raphael walked up to him, his expression one of surprised pleasure.

…

The next time he appeared at the gate Aziraphale managed not to jump out of his skin. It was a close thing, though.

"You're going to get scolded again."

Aziraphale had been engrossed in his contemplation of the Garden, not sparing even a shred of his attention for his surroundings now that Raphael had finished his rounds for the day. He had been looking at Lucifer and Samael arguing with Uriel, their gestures and the expressions on their faces telling Aziraphale it was something more serious than the usual argument between their brothers.

He had wondered, noticing the conspicuous absence of one of the group's members, where the young one was.

Now he knew.

Aziraphale turned, his face slightly flushed. "Oh, it's you."

"You're always looking at them when they are in the Garden," the other angel said, resting against the wall next to the gate and looking inside. "Are they really that fascinating?"

Aziraphale stared at him with a frown. He should know, he was part of that group though he didn't speak as if he believed it. And anyway, Aziraphale wasn't looking at them. Not anymore.

"They are the brightest among our brothers," he said, because he didn't want to say the truth and lying wasn't an option for an angel. A half-truth, misleading as it was, was okay.

"That they are," he said, that same admiration Aziraphale had seen reflected in his eyes colouring his tone. "Though they can get a bit too intense sometimes." He darted a look inside, where Lucifer and Uriel where still arguing.

Aziraphale followed his look and saw Uriel shaking his head, and expression of the utmost frustration crossing his features before he shook his head and left. Completely oblivious to what happened around them, the humans slept peacefully. Aziraphale saw Lucifer stare at the humans for a second, an expression of disgust, completely alien in an angel's face, flashing in his eyes.

He turned to look at his companion, who appeared to have seen as well and was frowning.

"Have you--"

"I have to go," he said hurriedly, and before Aziraphale had the chance to say anything he had vanished.

 …

Aziraphale had come to expect his visits, even rely on them for a spot of much needed distraction at his post. He would appear sometime after Raphael did his rounds and stay with Aziraphale for a while, talking about anything that crossed his mind.

Aziraphale still didn't know his name; and now, after so many conversations, he was too embarrassed to ask.

"I don't see anything wrong with the humans," he said as a way of greeting, and Aziraphale managed not to startle at his voice.

That he was expecting him didn't mean he was always prepared when the other appeared out of nowhere.

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale asked, frowning. He didn't see anything wrong with the humans either, and had no idea what had prompted such remark.

A shrug. "I don't know, it's just--they're getting tiresome with their discussions about humans. I think they're interesting."

Aziraphale darted a quick look at the Garden, where the humans where chasing one another around the tree, laughing and generally looking happy. Around them, observing their games, were Lucifer and the rest of his group. They appeared to be having a heated argument about the humans. Or as heated as things got with angels, which wasn't much.

"Well, they are more interesting than Father's latest creation."

They shared a look and a shudder remembering that particular creation.

"Yeah, dinosaurs," he said, his lips twisting in a slight smile. "I didn't like those."

Aziraphale returned his smile. "No one did." And luckily they had been allowed to go extinct.

"Lucifer liked them," he said, a note of amusement in his voice. "At least more than he likes humans."

"But they were ugly and huge and stupid!" Aziraphale exclaimed, and then clamped his mouth shut. He was an angel, and supposed to love all of his Father's creations, not criticize them. But well, dinosaurs?

"Yes, and I think he liked them because of that," the other said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. Aziraphale had a second to marvel at the fact that those eyes were so different from the rest of his brethren. Not to say they were unique, but so far Aziraphale had only seen blue eyed angels. That rich hazel, almost yellow, was beautiful in its difference. "Humans, now. They are smart."

Aziraphale looked back at the Garden. The female had managed to wrest the male to the ground, and they were rolling around, covered in dust and fallen leaves.

"Are you sure of that, my dear?" They didn't look especially smart from where he was standing.

"They are," he insisted. "They have really interesting conversations, and do incredible things with the materials Father provided."

"Really?"

"Yes, yesterday they managed to distil some drink with the fruits in the garden. It seemed to taste nice, and they were much more interesting after a few drinks," he said, warming up to the subject. "Well, it's better than having Ambrosia all the time," he finished lamely, noticing Aziraphale's amused expression.

He had to agree with that. Even the most delicious thing in creation got boring after a while.

"And they think of the most amazing things, by themselves," the other continued, "they don't even have to obey every single order. They can choose not to." That was a novel concept for Aziraphale, who had obedience built in his very being. Like the rest of the angels. "Which is the reason Lucifer doesn't really like them--" he stopped then, realizing what he'd said. "Well, he loves them, like the rest of us, but he--I think I better shut up now. I have to go."

Aziraphale blinked at the empty space where the other angel had been and shrugged. He had not understood half of what he had said, but it didn't matter.

He'd ask about it the next time.

…

Aziraphale should have guessed something was wrong when he stopped coming to the gate to talk to him. Lucifer and the others were also missing from the Garden, and he told himself that was the reason the visits had stopped.

The rumours came later.

Aziraphale was almost always the last to find out, especially now he didn't have a regular visitor bringing him news.

But he was not worried, because nothing bad ever happened in Heaven.

Ever.

…

Aziraphale looked at the Garden with a weary sigh; there was nothing to see there. Not anymore.

He didn’t know why he kept searching for him, he was sure he was never going to see him again.

No one had seen it coming, Lucifer's rebellion managing to shock even those closest to their Father. And he'd been cast down, forever banished from his rightful pace among the Host of Heaven, his companions following him down.

No, Aziraphale knew he wasn't likely to see him again, nor would he have another conversation like the ones they had before. He regretted never asking his name, and now that chance was lost forever.

For some reason, that bothered him.

…

There was a storm coming.

Aziraphale had never seen a storm, and up to that point had not even known what a storm was. There was, however, one coming. Of that he was certain.

He was still at the Eastern gate, his eyes looking vacantly at the space where the humans had been, his mind trying to find an excuse for the fact that he didn't have a flaming sword anymore. He wasn't sure Raphael was going to believe it anyway, he was a lousy liar.

There was a rustling sound an Aziraphale looked at the ground, his brows climbing up his forehead at the sight of the serpent. It had not taken long for the rumours to spread this time, and they said that serpent was the one to blame for the fall of humans.

Aziraphale knew he should do some smiting; here, in front of him, was Evil, with a capital letter. He was an angel and thus, supposed to fight against it.

He just couldn't be bothered; the serpent didn't feel really evil to him. And anyway, he didn't have a sword to smite it with anymore.

"It looks like rain," the serpent said, and something in the way it spoke sparked some recognition in Aziraphale. "This place has changed somewhat since the last time I saw it." The serpent looked at him and cocked his head slightly, considering. "Most of it. I reckon--"

Aziraphale stopped paying attention at that point, his entire focus on the serpent.

It wasn't possible, was it?

The serpent was looking up at him warily, as if it wasn't sure whether Aziraphale was going to smite it or not. But it was there, speaking to Aziraphale in an unnervingly friendly way which reminded him of someone else.

Who else made a habit of keeping Aziraphale company at his boring post?

He heard the first drops of rain falling in the distance, approaching them steadily, and he unfolded his wings to cover himself and the serpent.

"I'm sorry, what was it you were saying?"

"I _said_ that one went down like a lead balloon."

"Oh yes."

They talked for a while, the rain falling around them giving the impression they were the only beings in the entire world.

Aziraphale was kind of fine with that.

It wasn't until the serpent left, the worst of the storm falling over Aziraphale's head, that he noticed he had not asked for his name. Again.

But that was fine.

Somehow he was sure that chance would come. Eventually.

…

*Fin*


End file.
